‘You’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you?’ she asked as she took the glass from Sam’s hand and set it down on the floor next to her own. She leant into him, pushing him back until he was pinned down against the hard surface of the floorboards. Anna’s body was supplicant by contrast but just as immovable. ‘So am I invited to this leaving do?’
‘Actually, Jack did mention it, but I thought it would be a bit too soon,’ he added, not sure if he was still talking about the invitation. Their relationship so far had amounted to only half a dozen dates and while there was plenty of kissing, they hadn’t taken it further, not yet.
‘I would like to meet your friends,’ Anna said as she leaned in to brush her lips lightly over his. ‘I’d like to get to know you so much better.’ She kissed him briefly.
He wanted Anna, of that there was no doubt, but there would always be a part of Sam that resisted getting closer emotionally. But Anna was already close physically and he had no desire to push her away.
‘Invite me, Sam,’ she whispered in his ear.
Aware that Anna hadn’t agreed to help with Jasmine’s wish yet, Sam was done for. ‘Do I have a choice?’ he asked.
Anna could sense victory and kissed him again, more deeply this time. When she lifted her head, her nose was wrinkled. Pulling the flower from her hair, she trailed it across Sam’s chin. ‘That beard of yours is going to leave my face red raw by the morning,’ she promised.
8
Sam’s flat: Wednesday 7 October 2015
Sam hadn’t known what kind of trouble he had been stepping into when he had decided to offer a helping hand to the Petersons, but he refused to feel guilty about trying to grant a little girl’s wish. If he regretted anything, it was telling Anna about that first one, but at least he hadn’t shared any more. ‘I didn’t tell you about the wish because I fail to see how it would help find Jasmine.’
‘Let me be the judge of that,’ DCI Harper said.
‘All right then, yes, I knew Jasmine wanted her dad to find a job. Is it a crime now to want to help someone?’ Sam demanded.
‘I suppose that depends on the motive,’ Harper said. ‘What was in it for you, Mr McIntyre?’
Before Sam could reply, static crackled through the air as a police radio came to life. The police officer who had returned to his sentry duty by the door stepped out onto the landing to speak to his colleagues.
Sam took a look out of the window and noticed another police car drawing up outside. ‘Has something happened?’ he asked.
Harper didn’t bother to look outside but took a seat opposite Sam, having decided he was going to be there for a while. He checked his notes again, if only to kill time while he waited for his colleague to return. He didn’t have to wait long, and when he did come back into the room, the officer slipped Harper a note while avoiding any eye contact with Sam.
‘Would you mind if we searched your apartment, Mr McIntyre?’ Harper asked Sam.
‘You won’t find her here.’
‘I’m starting to think we won’t find much of anything here. Were you planning on going away, by any chance?’
A flush rose to Sam’s cooling cheeks, but before he could reply, the detective followed up his question with another. ‘Is that why you called your employers this morning and told them you were handing in your notice with immediate effect?’
Sam didn’t look at Harper but stared into the depths of his half-empty glass of water. ‘I’d simply decided it was time to move on. I never intended remaining in Liverpool long-term and I’d already stayed longer than I ever expected.’
Harper leaned back against the dining room chair, which groaned under his weight. ‘So you’d really had enough of all those schoolchildren flocking to the park to hang off your every word?’
‘I’ve given guided tours for years to people of all ages, here and in Edinburgh.’
Frowning, Harper lifted up the note the policeman had given him. ‘But your actual job is as a gardener at Calderstones, not a park ranger.’
‘Yes, but I started volunteering my time when the ranger services were cut back. It was still an official duty and I’ve been DBS checked, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t have a criminal record.’
‘Oh, I already know that, Mr McIntyre. No one’s suggesting otherwise.’
‘Then what exactly are you suggesting?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ Harper replied and immediately changed tack. ‘Do you have family back in Scotland?’
‘I was married yes, but we’re divorced now.’
Harper nodded and Sam couldn’t tell if he was noting the answer or confirming it was correct. ‘Children?’
‘No.’
There was a moment when Harper held his gaze and Sam didn’t know what he was going to ask next but he dreaded it anyway.
‘I might want to speak to your wife, sorry, your ex-wife,’ Harper said at last. ‘Do you have her contact details?’ Harper had lifted his pen to his notepad in readiness.
‘You might have difficulty there. She was going on her honeymoon this morning so she’ll probably be mid-flight by now,’ Sam said. He was getting to know Harper and had the answer to his next remark before it left his lips. ‘But of course you can have her details if it helps.’
‘You haven’t had much success with relationships, have you, Mr McIntyre?’ Harper said. ‘Why did you break up with Miss Jenkins, by the way? She’s young and pretty by all accounts. What went wrong? Wasn’t she your type, either?’
‘We dated briefly and it didn’t work out, that’s all there was to it,’ Sam replied, not sure how he was remaining calm.
‘Was it something specifically that caused a rift in that particular relationship?’ Harper asked, and then cocked his head before adding, ‘Was she worried about your obsession with the Petersons?’
‘You’d have to ask her that,’ Sam answered, too quickly to see the trap.
‘We will,’ Harper replied with a satisfied smile. ‘But it’s good to hear that at least you recognize your obsession – which wasn’t only limited to Jasmine, was it?’
9
Sunday 31 May 2015
Sam pressed his chin against his chest as he concentrated on pushing the mower steadily down the length of the garden towards the house, careful to keep in line with the neat stripe of newly cut grass he had already made. He had wanted to begin the task hours ago but knew his neighbours might have taken exception to being woken up by the buzz of a lawn mower on a lazy, hazy Sunday morning. Even at ten o’clock, he suspected some would think it too early. He looked towards the house for signs of life. The curtains were still drawn on the ground floor, but as he cast his gaze higher, he spotted Anna sitting on the ledge of his bedroom window with a cup of coffee in her hand, wrapped in nothing but an old shirt she had taken from his wardrobe. Her smile warmed his heart more than the sun on his back.
She had transformed his life in such a short space of time. His previous existence had been little more than a long list of chores with his future laid out like a to-do-list. When he wasn’t working, either in his official and unofficial capacity, Sam helped Selina with jobs around the house and if she didn’t need anything doing then he had been known to extend the offer to her friends. The time he had left was focused on either running or sketching.
That wasn’t to say that he was completely comfortable with his newly acquired social life. He tried to tell himself he was out of practice and it would take time to adapt, but there was more to it than that – there always was. Anna was distracting him from the memories that might otherwise haunt him, but rather than a blessing, it made him feel guilty. He deserved to live with the pain.
Sam reached the edge of the lawn and promptly did a U-turn before steering the mower across the next strip of grass waiting to be cut to within an inch of its life. He could feel Anna’s eyes boring into him. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. Kirsten had been calm and considered, a mirror image of Sam in many ways, whereas Anna came across
as not only sure of herself but of him, too. He could feel himself being swept along by her enthusiasm for the potential of their relationship. Unlike Sam, she wasn’t interested in the past. Yes, they both had histories, but she looked only to the future and was helping Sam lift his head to the horizon too.
When he turned the mower again, he looked up to find Selina standing on the decking area that ran the full length of the house. The old lady was bent double, with one hand banging desperately against her chest. Sam was horrified to see her face contorted and tears flowing down her cheeks. He cut off the engine and was about to rush over, then stopped himself. He had to wait a full minute for his landlady to compose herself and bring the gales of laughter under control.
Sam scratched his chin as he waited, which only made the old lady crease up again. ‘Stop it!’ she cried, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Oh, Sam, you’re such a sight!’
Clenching his jaw and refusing to even smile, Sam asked, ‘Why? What’s wrong with you, woman?’
Selina bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, really I am. You look …’ There was another burst of laughter. She took a deep breath. ‘You just look so different without a beard.’
Sam glared at her but couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
‘I suppose we have Anna to thank for that,’ she said, still giggling.
‘I practically had to lock him in the bathroom,’ Anna said.
She had appeared from the house behind Selina and the two women smiled at each other. ‘He looks so young without it,’ Selina said, then started breaking up again. ‘That’s it! He looks baby-faced!’
‘He has this hang up about me being ten years younger – but look at him now, you’d never guess the age gap, would you?’
Selina came towards Sam and put her weathered hand softly against his cheek. ‘He’s like a new man.’
‘So what was so wrong with the old one?’ he said.
The off-the-cuff comment hung in the air as the old lady held his gaze. ‘He wasn’t the real you,’ she said. ‘He was just someone to help you forget the person you were and could be again.’
‘What did she mean?’ Anna asked when Selina had disappeared into the house, promising to make them a cooked breakfast to give them some energy for the run they were planning later that afternoon: Anna’s promise to go out for a leisurely jog with him had been part of the negotiations for Sam’s traumatic shave. She wasn’t keen on exercise, but she had wanted to please him, just as he had wanted to please her the night before.
‘Oh, pay no attention to her. I think she was a white witch in a previous life.’
‘And what were you in your previous life, Sam? A devoted husband who should never have given into his midlife crisis and walked out on his wife?’
For a moment, Sam was stunned. Anna had been inquisitive about the break-up of his marriage but hadn’t pushed him on the matter. Had she thought that shaving off his beard would reveal a little more of the man beneath? What she didn’t – and couldn’t – know was that his wife of fifteen years had already tried and failed to break through the outer shell he had acquired in his later years. Anna didn’t stand a chance, but he could at least allay one of her fears. ‘I’m not still in love with Kirsten, if that’s what you were wondering.’
Anna was still wearing his shirt, her bare legs exposed and her toes digging into the sun-warmed decking. For someone who came across as so confident, she looked suddenly vulnerable. ‘Yes, I suppose I was,’ she admitted. ‘You’re a hard man to get to know, Sam. You may not realize that you put up barriers, but they’re there, and it would be nice to know that one day I’ll be able to break through them.’
The comment, rather than help Sam open up, only served to push him away and he stepped back. ‘I just need to take it slowly. Is that OK?’ he said, grabbing hold of the mower and preparing to start it up again.
‘OK,’ she said, sensing the not-so-subtle withdrawal. ‘You set the pace and I’ll follow.’
Sam had started up the mower but Anna was talking again and so, reluctantly, he shut it off.
‘You still want me to go with you to Jack’s leaving do, don’t you?’
‘Could I stop you?’ he said more harshly than he intended.
Anna narrowed her eyes in response. ‘No, Sam, you couldn’t.’
When he saw her lip quiver, he felt awful. He reminded himself that she was a rare blessing in his life and deserved better from him. He abandoned the mower and came over to wrap his arms around her. ‘Good,’ he said.
Anna didn’t immediately respond and kept her hands by her sides. She had acquired a pout. ‘I suppose you still want to go ahead with your harebrained idea about bumping into Finn in the pub first.’
‘You don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?’
‘I think you’re a lovely, kind-hearted man,’ she said. ‘But Finn’s a proud one. He wouldn’t take kindly to an offer of charity.’
‘It’s not charity.’
Anna placed both hands on his chest as if getting the measure of his heart. ‘No, it’s a little girl’s wish.’
‘Exactly,’ Sam said and then pulled Anna closer until she was bending to his will – and yet still he felt her resistance.
Anna had talked a lot about her local. Apparently they had held quite a few family wakes in there and it was where her dad had taken her for her first legal drink. Sam had pictured a quaint little pub but the reality was somewhat different. Although the imposing facade had all the trademarks of a Victorian public house, the interior had been transformed into a modern eatery that was full of light, although at five thirty on a Saturday evening, not particularly full of life.
Staff flitted between empty tables, tidying up as they went to take advantage of the lull before the evening rush. While Anna searched out a clear table, Sam scanned the faces of customers as if he would recognize Jasmine’s father instinctively.
‘Is he here?’
Anna looked momentarily puzzled. Clearly, Sam’s mission was playing less on her mind than it was on his. ‘Oh, you mean Finn. Are you sure you want to do this?’ When Sam nodded, she tutted quietly before looking around. She waved at a couple of regulars at the bar but then quashed Sam’s hopes by saying, ‘No, it doesn’t look like it. It’s usually heaving at this time during the football season but I suppose it does get quieter over the summer. Sorry, we can always try again.’
‘I’ll get us some drinks,’ Sam said, trying not to let his disappointment show. Meeting Finn had been the only part of the evening he had been looking forward to; the rest of the night would be filled with dread as he introduced his new girlfriend to his colleagues.
Standing at the bar, he ordered a glass of wine for Anna while debating whether to have a double whisky for Dutch courage or a soft drink to make sure he kept his wits about him. He settled on a pint, only to be told the barrel needed changing. As he waited, he leafed through a discarded newspaper on the counter and didn’t look up when a man squeezed onto the bar stool next to him until he realized he was being watched.
‘Sorry, is this your paper?’ Sam asked, closing it up and offering it back before the stranger could reply.
‘It’s all right, mate. I’ve read it from cover to cover and the news won’t get any better second time around.’
‘Aye, it does seem like the only news these days is bad.’
The man nodded then turned his attention to the last two inches of beer in the glass he had left on the bar. ‘And there’ll be more bad news waiting for me at home if I don’t get a move on.’
From the corner of his eye, Sam spied Anna giving him the thumbs-up sign which confirmed what he had already suspected. Jasmine hadn’t inherited her father’s dark looks or his rather squat stature but there was something about Finn that was a reflection of his daughter, if only the shadows under the eyes.
‘I envy you,’ Sam said as he scrambled for something to say. He tipped his head towards Anna as he added, ‘I’m being dragged into town but I’d rather be heading
home myself.’
‘Anna’s your girlfriend?’ Finn asked to which Sam nodded. ‘Don’t tell me, she’s forcing you to see some highbrow play or something educational.’
‘Actually, it’s a leaving do for a friend of mine.’
Finn shook his head and cursed under his breath. ‘Don’t tell me it’s someone else who’s lost their job? It’s getting tough out there.’
The barman had returned from the cellar and promised Sam he wouldn’t keep him much longer. Time was running out. ‘Actually, he’s moving on to pastures new after looking after Liverpool’s parks and gardens for the last twenty-five years. How about you? What do you do?’
‘Nothing. I do nothing,’ Finn said with a snort before downing the last of his pint. ‘I was a foreman at a builders’ merchants, there ten years and then they let me go, just like that.’ He snapped his fingers to drive the point home. ‘Been looking around for ages, but you know …’ He shook his head. ‘It gets to the point where you think – why bother?’ Finn stared at the dregs of his glass. ‘But I do bother because I’m supposed to provide for my family.’
If Sam had any doubts about helping, they disappeared in that instant. ‘Any good at landscaping?’
Finn smiled. ‘I’ve an eight-year-old daughter at home who’d like to think she can do a better job mowing the lawn given half the chance. The wife’s mostly in charge of the garden, but I’m good with a shovel. I couldn’t even guess how many tonnes of sand I’ve shifted in my time,’ he said before turning to Sam, the look alone asking why the question.
Sam rubbed his chin, the touch of warm flesh still a surprise to him after two weeks of being clean-shaven. He did his best to look as if the thought was only just occurring to him and managed to sound dubious when he said, ‘I might be out of order here, and I certainly can’t promise anything, but the pal I’m off to see is taking on labour. His new job is with a building contractor, working on new-build projects all over the city and I could always put in a word if you’re interested?’
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